Two years ago my doctor told me I was diabetic. That's a scary thing. My first thought was about how much my dad suffered, as first his eyesight failed, then his kidneys, and finally his heart. I'll admit I'm afraid of dying at 65, as he did.
My second thought, though, was about all the money J. and I have been saving for 25 years. We've built up a nice nest egg with IRA's and 401K's. I'll be damned if I'm going to die young and let her be a rich widow for 25 years! Spending my retirement money on some young stud!
Now, when I go to the kitchen for a snack, I first close my eyes. I can see this Fabio dude sitting in my big leather chair at Christmas time. He's opening the gift box my smiling wife just gave him, and taking out a Rolex watch.
Hell no! No Fabio is getting a gold watch in my house! Forget the snack!
When I pass a Mexican restaurant, luring me with burritos and quesadillas laden with fat grams. I close my eyes briefly. And there's Fabio again, walking across my driveway to his shiny red sports car.
Not gonna happen! No funds for Fabio's Ferrari! Begone burritos!.
Those mental images have saved me. Over two years I've lost 35 pounds. My doctor tells me I'm going to live a long life. My wife can dream all she wants about Fabio, but when she opens her eyes, it's still going to be my old body beside her. Screw diabetes!
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